Chapter 5: Mother Fucking Samhain

Eli stood outside of the Impala, squinting into the wind. Sam and Dean sat inside of the car, clearly having some kind of serious talk. Eli had a pretty good idea of what it was about, but she opted to stay outside for a moment. She was embroiled in her own crisis of faith; she didn't need to get involved in Sam's, too.

Finally the door swung open and a cranky Dean stepped out. "You done 'taking some air?'" he asked.

"You guys done having a brotherly existential crisis?" she shot back.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, I don't think this one will be over for a long time. Get in, we have a lead. And don't think we won't be grilling your ass about what just happened up there."

Eli slid into the back passenger seat. "I already told you I'm working with angels," she said, slamming the door. "Why should you be surprised that I know a couple?"

The black car pulled smoothly away from the curb. "Oh, besides the boiling animosity in the room and the fact that you called Shaft a douche?" Dean asked snarkily as he swung the wheel and eased onto the road.

"Or how about the fact that he called you 'Abomination' and 'Thing,'" Sam commented, twisting in his seat to stare at Eli, who had busied herself with removing her braids and deftly untangling the knots in her hair. "Eli, what aren't you telling us?"

"Oh, a lot of things, probably," she said with fake lightheartedness. She kept her eyes down, and her answers blithe; it wasn't the time yet to tell them anything. It wasn't safe, for them or for her.

Underneath it all, what she really wanted was to be normal with them, for just a little while. A weird pain-in-the-ass hunter with angelic connections, nothing more. It felt good, to hold her secrets to her chest and smile at the world like they weren't there. It felt good, and it wouldn't last.

"The thing I really want to know is: Why are you working for them if you hate them and they clearly hate you?" Dean asked.

"I told you: Business arrangement. They can give me something I want."

"Which is?" Sam stared at her, curiosity and worry wrinkling his brow.

"None of your beeswax, boys," she said, glancing out the window. Her eyes widened. She stopped fiddling with her hair, ran her fingers through her messy waves and crammed the black hat back over her head. "And actually, I think this is my stop. Let me out here."

They were in front of a children's park.

"What?" Dean asked, pulling his eyes away from the road to stare at her in disbelief.

"Dean, stop the car," she ordered.

He complied, slamming on the brakes in the middle of the road. Eli hopped out of the back and knocked on the passenger side window. Sam rolled it down.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell us what this is all about?" Sam asked, and she just grinned.

"You boys go do your investigation. Give me a call if you find anything out. See you soon."

Then she pulled the jacket tighter around herself and hurried across the road. Dean watched her retreating back with narrowed eyes.

"One of these days, we're gonna make her talk," he muttered. "That girl has some serious 'splainin' to do." He put the car in gear and pulled away.

Eli walked up to the figure lurking under an old maple tree. "Twice in one day," she said once she was in earshot. "I didn't think I would see you again until after the battle was over."

"Hello, Elijah," he said, and while he wasn't exactly smiling, his brow was a little less furrowed than normal.

"Hey, Cas. Where's your friend?"

"Not here," he said shortly, giving her a sidelong look.

A chill wind blew by, rustling the orange and red leaves on the ground. The sky was a placid, late-fall blue that let the light fall unfiltered. It streamed through the leaves of the old tree, dappling Castiel's dark hair with gold, like a halo. She took her time studying him: how his nose was long and straight, framed by beautiful cheekbones and those wide set, twilight-blue eyes. Her gaze drifted to his mouth and its full lips, slightly chapped, and then to the hollow of his neck, just visible under his slightly rumpled suit.

"Why are you staring at me?" he asked, squinting at her face. "I was under the impression that intense scrutiny is culturally unacceptable."

Eli flushed and dipped her head down. "I rarely have the chance to see you up close. You look good."

"What you're seeing is my vessel, not me," he reminded her gently, shifting on his feet. She sighed, puffing air out of her cheeks.

"Right, of course. Why are you here, Cas?"

There was a pause. Then, in a quieter voice, he said, "I want to apologize for Uriel. He had no right to call you that. You are working with us now. You deserve to be treated with respect."

Eli raised her eyebrows. "Thank you," she said. "That's … nice of you to say."

"It's the truth," he said, looking at her. The wind rose, making his tan trench coat ripple. "Uriel is a fundamentalist. Dangerously so. I say this for your own good."

Eli studied the fallen leaves that lay thickly under her scuffed boots, muddying the bottom of her cargo pants. She noticed that his shoes were pristine and polished, not a hint of dirt on them. "What do you mean?"

"It is best to not… push him. He can lay no finger on Dean Winchester. The rules are more… flexible when they come to you." Eli looked up at him in surprise; he was so close to her now, close enough that if she wanted to she could reach out and touch the prominent line between his eyebrows. "I worry for you," he said, his voice losing some of its usual harsh tone.

"Oh." Eli glanced away, gnawing at her lower lip. He had never said anything like that before. She was at a loss for words. "Uh, okay, then."

Castiel looked at her. Her eyes were green green, like summer trees, her hair under the ugly hat knotted around her face and almost translucent in the late afternoon air. Her freckles were iridescent in the sunlight, pinpricks of orange stars scattered at random across her nose and cheekbones. They were like a maze; he found, for an irrational moment, that he wanted to connect them, to see if they formed some pattern or were really all just chaos.

He was startled by the trend of his thoughts lately, how his mind seemed to drift to inconsequential things. Even his worry was new. Maybe it was this human body that was affecting him. Maybe it was Dean Winchester. Or maybe it was…

"Would you really have smited the town?" she asked. Across the park was a playground, children shrieking and kicking up leaves, hanging upside down off of the jungle gym, kicking skinny legs on swings.

Castiel tore his gaze from her to watch them too. "If it had come to that, I would have followed orders," he said, his voice once again all stone and gravel. "But it would not have pleased me."

"I think it would have pleased them even less," she said, in a whisper that barely drifted past her own ears. He heard it anyway.

"I must go," he said. "Uriel is near. It would be… safest if you left now."

"Right." She stepped back from him, crunching on dry leaves. "I should go to the high school and meet up with Sam and Dean anyway."

Castiel frowned, as if deep in thought. "They are no longer at the school. They are headed to a house. Perhaps it is the house of the witch." He placed two fingers on her forehead, just the lightest of cool touches, and for an instant she saw an old house swimming in front of her, and knew its location.

"Go now, Eli," he said, turning from her with inhuman grace and starting to walk. "Go save the world."

"Thanks, Cas," she said softly. "I'll see you soon."

She spun around and rushed away.

Castiel turned once to watch her go, his gaze inscrutable. Then he walked across the park, for once taking his time. This human body fit well, like a glove; the very act of walking was a visceral experience, how each muscle shifted, connected, tensed and released, how the heart pumped and sent its blood thrumming so very close to the surface. He found that he rather enjoyed the feel of the sun against this fragile human skin and the chill wind that raised leaves and the fine hairs along his face. The laughter of children was pleasant, soothing almost. Warm. Like heaven.

He approached Uriel from behind, stopping just next to the bench where the darker angel was brooding. Unlike Castiel, Uriel seemed ill-fit for his human skin, like it was a rubber suit, thick-fingered and hard to maneuver, as chafing and confining as shackles. Castiel could sense the bitterness, the antagonism rising off of his brother in waves.

"The decision's been made," Castiel said. Uriel let out a choppy, humorless laugh.

"By a mud monkey," he snarled.

"You shouldn't call them that."

"It's what they are," he said derisively. "Savages, just plumbing on two legs."

"You're close to blasphemy." There was a cold edge to Castiel's voice.

"And where were you just now?" Uriel asked silkily. Castiel sat next to him, ignoring the question.

"There's a reason we were sent to save him. He has potential, he may succeed here." Castiel sighed. "And any rate, it's out of our hands."

Uriel noted Castiel's evasiveness but said nothing about it. "It doesn't have to be. "

"And what would you suggest?" Castiel asked warily.

"That we drag Dean Winchester out of here and then we blow this insignificant pinprick off the map. As a bonus, we can even leave that Abomination here and be rid of her once and for all."

"She is important," Castiel said with an edge to his voice.

"She is a monstrosity that never should have been allowed to survive past infancy."

"She cannot help the circumstances of her birth."

Uriel snorted. "She's just a dog without a collar."

Something about the phrase rang in Castiel's consciousness. "What did you say?" he asked, turning to look at his brother.

Uriel ignored him. "So what are we going to do about this…situation?" he asked gruffly.

"You know our true orders. Are you prepared to disobey?"

Uriel just looked at him for a long moment, and then Castiel was alone on the bench. He sighed, and very carefully, as he had never done this before, he pulled his fingers through his hair and let his head hang in his hands in utter frustration.

"Come on, pick up, pick up," Eli muttered into her phone as she ran, ducking under laundry lines and vaulting over bushes.

Finally there was a click and an irritated voice crackled: "Yeah?"

"What the fuck, Dean, I've been calling you for the past half an hour," Eli gasped, trying to talk and breathe deeply at the same time.

"We've been trying to call you, the message kept saying out of service," Dean snapped. "Where are you?"

"Running through people's backyards," she answered shortly, leaping over a bench, the phone jiggling awkwardly in her hands. "I must have just missed you. I went to the house but all I found was a dead body and lots of blood. What happened?"

"Samhain," Dean answered grimly. "This dude is risen and it's not exactly rainbows and puppies. We're going to the cemetery."

"Me too. Must be nice to have a car." She spat out a leaf as she wormed her way through a tall bush. "I'll be there in five. Don't do anything without me."

"Fine," he said, and hung up. Eli kept running, cutting through suburbia on the quickest route to the cemetery.

She found Dean already in the crypt, about to shoot down a gate. Behind it were terrified costumed teenagers huddled together like sheep as the reanimated bodies rattled in their cement cages. Dean saw her and pointed down the hall.

"Go help Sam!" he yelled. "I got this!"

Eli barreled through without slowing down, easily passing Sam in the hallway as he slowly and stealthily approached Samhain.

"Eli, wait!" he gasped before he could stop himself, jogging after her.

Samhain turned, but before he could use his powers Eli was on him. She tackled him to the floor like a football player and slammed the palm of her hand directly on his forehead.

Nothing happened. Samhain grinned eerily at her.

"I know what you are," he hissed. "And your little parlor tricks won't work on me."

With a wave of his hand he sent Eli slamming into the wall. He was on her in a minute, hand around her throat. "Just a dog without a collar," he wheezed, choking her.

"Hey dickhead," Sam yelled, and Samhain jerked his head up. Sam lifted his hand, sending the demon flying across the room. Eli slid down the wall, gasping for air.

Before her she could see Sam slowly exorcising Samhain, his hand pressed to his own forehead as he focused his energy on the demon. Sam's skin was bloodless, his eyes too-bright, like a sick man, a thread of red winding down from his nose like wet paint. She spat out blood, trying to call out, but her windpipe felt like it had been crushed. "No," she whispered hoarsely. The angels had been very specific in their orders: under no circumstances was Sam to use his powers. That was half of the reason she was even there.

She realized, as she watched the empty body drop like a puppet to the floor, that on her first big task she had failed.

A second later she felt Dean kneel by her and brush the hair from her eyes. "Hey, Eli. You okay?"

She nodded, then coughed out a bit more blood and brought her hand to her mouth, feeling a gash in her lip. Her head felt like she had been hit by a train and finger-shaped bruised were flowering over her neck, but she wasn't badly hurt. "Yeah, fine," she croaked. "Just help me up."

He grabbed her arm and hauled her to her feet. "Steady now," he said as she wobbled a bit.

They started to walk out the door.

"Dean," Sam said pleadingly, and Dean shot him a look.

"Just…don't talk, okay?" he said harshly, and Sam obeyed. They walked out of the crypt in silence.

"You failed," a voice boomed from behind Eli when she was alone in the motel room the next day. She shrieked and whirled around, her hand clutching her chest, and saw who it was. In an instant her visible fear was gone, slicked over by a coat of bravado and false swagger.

"Oh, Uriel, it's just you," she said lightly. "I thought it might be something scary."

"Your insubordination will not be tolerated for much longer," he said, swiftly grabbing her arm and forcing her to look at him. "Especially if you keep failing. Sam Winchester is not to use his powers. Do you understand?"

"Let go of my arm," she growled. He frowned, tightening his grip.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, fine, now let go of my arm!"

He dropped it like he had been touching something disgusting. "Good. I think you forget, Abomination, that we are giving you a chance here. That your success is not guaranteed. So from now on, maybe you should show your superiors a little respect, or you might never get what you want."

Eli glared at him but bit her tongue. "Yes, sir."

"I'll be watching," he said, his voice ominous. "And remember, if you fail, and you will fail, I will take very great pleasure in killing you myself. And it will not be quick, nor will it be merciful. So think about that the next time you choose to insult me."

With a sound like a flurry of wings, he was gone.

Eli sagged against the bed, her legs shaking. "I should never have taken this job," she whispered. She blinked hard, taking a big steadying breath to keep tears at bay. The whole situation felt wrong: her being there, the angels, the seals, all of it. It felt fake.

Eli hated to admit it to herself, but she wanted to see him, if only because he was the only thing in her whole mess of a life that felt real. Stupid, really: he was decidedly not real, wearing someone else's skin like a suit, looking through eyes that weren't his. But she did it anyway, concentrating and letting a flicker of something warm touch the edge of her consciousness. A location.

"The park," she whispered, grabbing her jacket and nearly running out the door.

She found them together, sitting on a park bench, talking in low voices. She jogged up behind them, out of breath.

"Cas!" she exclaimed, and both men turned to look at her. "Hey, sorry to interrupt, can I speak with you for just a moment?"

Castiel nodded solemnly. "I was done here anyway," he said, standing and walking away from Dean without another word. Eli shrugged apologetically and hurried to catch up with the angel.

"You located me," Castiel said when she was next to him. "I felt it."

"I figured you would be around," she said, stuffing her hands into her pockets and staring at the ground as they walked.

He tilted his head and looked at her patiently.

"I, ah…" she rubbed the back of her neck, already regretting having to bring up her recent failure. Castiel sensed her discomfort.

"It was not your fault," he said gently. "Samhain was too powerful for you. It was foolish to send you in at all. He would have been difficult for even an angel to kill."

"Right, but that's actually not what I came to talk to you about. I have a question for you." She stopped walking and turned to him, looking up at his face with the realization that, as usual, he was standing too close for comfort. She took a step back.

"Last night, in the crypt, Samhain, he… he said something to me." She wrapped her arms around herself and took a deep, unsteady breath.

"What did he say?" Castiel asked, his rough voice soothing, like a cat's tongue.

"You're just a … a dog without a collar," she quoted. "It made me think of that night, when Azazel…when he tried to…" She trailed off, her hand rising protectively to her throat. "Do you think that there's a connection?"

Castiel stared at her for a long moment, then dropped his gaze. "No," he said finally. "I think that they are just the words of a demon. You should not let them bother you."

"Oh," she said softly. "Okay, then."

"I really must go," he said, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "Take care of yourself, Eli."

Eli looked up, but he was gone. She sighed and lifted her head to the afternoon sky. "You too, Cas."